


Consume

by the_moonmoth



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_moonmoth/pseuds/the_moonmoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock looked at him levelly, brown eyes considering, face calm, and Jim wanted nothing more in that moment than to break that composure. God, he wanted. "I'm sorry," he said in desperation, "I never intended for you to find out."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consume

**Author's Note:**

> Written to entertain myself while awaiting beta on another fic. Unbeta'd, but if you spot any errors please let me know. Concrit is welcome.

Jim rests his forehead against the transparent aluminum and groans, the sound drawing up from somewhere deep inside of him. Behind him, Spock continues pushing in, a little too fast, a little too _much_ , one hand curled around Jim's hip, the other splayed out over his chest. Jim is distantly surprised at how possessive the gesture is, hand resting over his heart, and the realization sends another shot of desire to his groin.

They're in the observation deck, the full-length viewing windows showing the stars shooting past as the ship warps to their next mission. Jim stands before this view, naked and completely exposed, feet spread apart, being fucked by his first officer.

"Oh God, Spock." He is fully in now, their bodies flush, Spock inhumanly hot against him, inside him. He feels like he's coming apart.

"Religious proclamations hardly seem appropriate at this time," Spock breathes in his ear.

"It's appropriate," Jim gasps, "Believe me, it's very, very appropriate."

"Illogical," Spock replies, voice low, and thrusts.

He'd known, the moment Bones had explained how Spock had been able to get the information they needed from Jim while he was unconscious, to salvage the mission. He'd known that the thing he'd spent months hiding had been discovered by the very person he'd wanted to conceal it from most. It had been going on so long it felt as though it was a part of him, had soaked into his bones, and the possibility that Spock had melded with him and _not_ seen it was so remote Jim hadn't even dared cling to it.

When Bones had released him, and in the absence of being able to retain his dignity, he'd hidden in the observation deck. It had seemed monumentally unfair that Spock had found him there.

"You desire me," Spock had said without preamble, voice uncharacteristically uncertain, almost questioning. "You have fantasized about it, in this very room."

And that was true, and Jim knew that Spock knew it. Spock had looked at him levelly, brown eyes considering, face calm, and Jim wanted nothing more in that moment than to break that composure. God, he wanted. "I'm sorry," he said in desperation, "I never intended for you to find out."

"That would have been unfortunate," Spock replied, and Jim watched in astonishment as Spock turned and locked the door and said, "I believe this will go more smoothly if you disrobe."

Jim cries out, the sensation almost overwhelming him. His dick is so hard he aches, and he desperately wants Spock to touch him, but he also doesn't want this to be over yet, because Spock is biting delicately down the rim of his ear, and of all the many times he's imagined it, touching himself in the darkness of his quarters, he never thought it would be like _this_.

"Tell me," Spock murmurs, and Jim realizes with a jolt that Spock can sense his thoughts even now. He is thrusting slowly, but there is a force behind each one, a sense of strength barely leashed, and Jim isn't sure if he can actually speak right now, lightning running through his veins. "Tell me," Spock repeats, and bends his head to suck on Jim's neck.

"In my quarters, on the bed," Jim gasps, "Sometimes – sometimes in the shower or – I'd just lean back against the door and go at it." Spock thumbs his nipple and then pinches it, and Jim arches back against him involuntarily.

"Continue," he says.

"I'd imagine – imagine you sucking me off, sitting on the edge of my bed and pretending it was the captain's chair. Sometimes I'd use my fingers and imagine you were fucking me, if – if I could wait that long."

"You have imagined us here, before," Spock says, and Jim squeezes his eyes closed, tries to focus on what the words actually mean. Because yes, this, this is the fantasy he always comes back to, standing before the vast beauty of space, completely exposed, fucked open and offering himself up. "But not only intercourse," Spock continues. Jim's heart pounds, only half in panic.

"Yes," he breathes. The hand on his chest rises slowly, leaving a trail of fire across his skin. It stops at his neck, fingers resting lightly over his throat. For a moment he has a vivid flash of being held down against Chekov's station on the bridge, Spock's dark, dark eyes burning into him, the way he'd gotten hard, thinking about it afterwards.

"Look up," Spock says, nudging his chin with his fingers. Jim raises his head and looks at their dim reflections in the window. Spock's eyes are alight. "I want you," he says, "I have thought about you, thought about what it would be like to fuck you," his words are low, spoken into Jim's skin like a secret. He presses his lips into the delicate skin just under Jim's ear, says, "I have thought about what it would be like to give myself to you, and I find that I want to."

"Yes," Jim says. He reaches back, grips the back of Spock's neck as Spock thrusts _hard_ and wraps one hand around Jim's cock and reaches up and spreads his fingers over Jim's face with the other.

Jim feels Spock's mind sliding in with his own, and he feels a strange sense of relief, of euphoria, like a weight lifting from him. He can feel Spock, feel the pleasure he is taking from Jim's body, feel his desire, the weight of his own cock in Spock's hand, cool and alien and _fascinating_ , the taste of his own skin, the sensation of his sweat-slicked body pressed against Spock's, the fire that runs between them, consuming. He can't tell his pleasure from Spock's, knows only that he can't last much longer.

He cries out when he comes, head thrown back, feeling Spock pulse deep within him. He braces one hand against the window, chest heaving, as Spock gently withdraws.

 _Jim, will you turn around?_ Spock asks, and it takes a few seconds before Jim realizes the words came through the meld.

Spock keeps his fingers pressed to Jim's psi point as he turns, and Jim draws a shaky breath as he takes in Spock's eyes, the intensity there, his mouth kiss-swollen, hair disheveled, skin raised to a pale green flush.

He doesn't realize he's pretty much projecting _kiss me, kiss me, kiss me_ on a loop until Spock replies _as you wish_ and leans in and presses his mouth to Jim's.

The kiss deepens. Distantly, Jim feels himself stumbling backwards into the window, bodies pressed tightly together, feels Spock's hand on his ass cheek, fingers probing and stroking around his sensitive hole, feels Spock's intent like flames in the pit of his stomach.

He could lose himself in this, he realizes, and he doesn't mind at all.


End file.
